Page 98 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

Chapter Thirty-two

By the time Daisy had got ready and made it back downstairs, in her dusky pink dress with its high neckline and its sequin stripes, her blonde hair in an elegant ponytail, Fiona, Ermin, Jazz and Omari had arrived, their pot-luck dishes in bowls and on foil-covered platters.

‘Satay chicken skewers,’ Fiona said, looking resplendent in a dress that was navy and dark green, and shimmered like a mermaid’s tail.

‘We’ve brought potato salad and crispy cod goujons,’ Jazz added.

‘Fancy,’ Daisy said. ‘These are all lovely, thank you.’

‘You look incredible,’ Jazz said, as Daisy led them into the ballroom, to the trestle tables where their own dishes were waiting. Harry had made halloumi fries and mini tomato bruschettas, while Sophie, May and Daisy had been focusing on the decor.

‘So do you.’ Jazz’s dress was deep purple, with a high neck and a tight, sleeveless bodice, her toned arms on show. The skirt fell all the way to the floor, she had refreshed the purple streak in her hair and added matching eyeliner, and she looked both elegant and kick-ass. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done,’ she said, but Jazz was already walking to the back of the room, where the lights of the little village were still on, and Daisy knew it would draw people like a homing beacon.

‘It’s fucking amazing,’ Jazz said reverently, turning to grin at Omari, who looked stylish and sexy in his suit. ‘You said it was good, but I never thought it would be like this.’

‘You knew about it?’ Daisy asked.

‘Course. I’m going out with one of Avery’s team. I was always going to know.’

‘It was mostly him.’ Omari gave Daisy a soft smile. ‘He worked hard on it. Every coffee and lunch break, he spent them creating this. Mary and Winnie let him keep it on site.’

‘But he had the sculptures, too. You helped with those?’

Omari shrugged. ‘Here and there. But again, all Avery’s vision.’

‘I have to thank him,’ she said, which was a thin disguise for, I have to talk to him, please say he’s turning up. But Jazz and Omari just grinned at her, then she was distracted by Dexter, Imogen and Lucy arriving, along with Birdie. Terry, who worked part-time at Penny For Them, had taken his place at the door. He was dressed in a tux, his shoulder-length brown hair slicked back, his loud voice perfect for announcing the guests: ‘Hosts of the Mistingham Manor Christmas ball welcome Dexter Rivera, Imogen Rowsell, Birdie, and Lucy Rivera.’

The family were dressed beautifully, and carrying trays of even more mince pies and sausage rolls, Florentines and doughnuts, enough food that Daisy wondered what would happen to the other pot-lucks people had promised to bring. She hoped the dancing made everyone hungry.

As the guests turned up, most of them delighted and a little bit flustered at being announced, she showed them the tables where they could put their dishes, and pointed out the drinks table, where Natasha had agreed to serve drinks with a colleague, including from a huge vat of mulled wine, until her son Indigo took over halfway through the evening so she could enjoy the party. After that, everyone gravitated to the windows at the back to admire the model village. It was a showstopper.

‘God I’m so sorry,’ Sophie said, hurrying into the room, not even noticing that Terry had announced her as lady of the manor. Her dress was pale yellow, setting off the red in her hair, and she looked fresh and sparkling. ‘We got caught up with … stuff.’ Harry was behind her, adjusting his bow tie.

Daisy grinned. ‘I don’t want to know what you got caught up with. It’s fine. People are here, the string quartet are playing, the room is aglow.’

‘You look stunning,’ Sophie said, but she was scrutinizing Daisy’s face, as if looking for cracks.

‘I was going for Sophisticated Princess Barbie.’

Sophie nodded. ‘Mission achieved. The dress is a knockout. And Avery’s gift?’

Daisy swallowed. ‘Unexpected and perfect.’

They looked out over the room, the air vibrating with the gentle strains of ‘Carol of the Bells’ performed by the musicians, people chatting and laughing and eating, the tree lights setting off the sparkle in the drapes and paper chains.

‘You did this,’ Sophie said.

‘We did it. It hasn’t even got going yet.’

‘Let’s get it going, then. Harry, time to mingle.’

‘Of course.’ He kissed Sophie quickly on the lips. ‘Well done, Daisy.’ His smile was conspiratorial, and Daisy thought that, even though he had said he was going to tell Sophie about the bookshop, he couldn’t have done it yet, because she would have said something.

‘Well done to you, too.’ She raised an eyebrow and he shook his head minutely, confirming he hadn’t given his wife the news. ‘Let’s go forth and get this party started.’

Daisy was good at networking; she’d done it at a hundred conferences and hotel openings, and other swanky events where the chat was as light as the best lemon posset. But here, in Mistingham, it was proper conversation. It was people asking how she was getting on and where she got the silver fabric, and did she know Avery was making this village – genuine questions expecting genuine answers. It wasn’t politeness, it was interest, because this was where they lived, where they loved, what they cared about. So Daisy replied honestly, and asked her own questions, but she also kept her eye on the door.

Valerie and Frank arrived, Valerie already frowning, while Frank looked around in wonder. The older woman’s dress was red velvet, and Daisy was heartened that, even if she was being her usual, cynical self, she had also made an effort.